Sam had lost count of how many times he'd faced the barrel of a gun, such was his life at this point, but this time gave him extra reason to sweat. He was such an idiot! He knew the last place Akio had been seen was the pharmacy, and he walked right into the lion's den!
But that was supposed to be tomorrow, wasn't it? That's what led to Ziggy's prediction on his time of death. Of course, he could've changed things simply by leaping in here, and Ziggy had been wrong before. More times than he'd like, actually. Why, oh why, did he listen to her with her track record? Right now, he didn't care how things had gone so sideways. His only hope was to make sure a bullet didn't wind up in his skull. Or Lenny's.
"O-open the door!" stuttered the man, holding the gun shakily, "I'm not kidding around! Get us inside, and hand over the money and the drugs!" Sam placed his hands in the air as non-threateningly as possible.
"Okay, we'll do anything you say," he said, then, slowly lowering one hand, "I'm reaching into my pocket for the keys..."
"Hurry up!"
The mystery man wasn't the only one with trembling hands. But somehow, Sam managed to grab the keys and slowly faced the door. Turning his back on the gun made him uneasy, but he didn't want to risk the man getting impatient and pulling the trigger. Still, the man in the mask appeared just as scared and uncertain as he was. Maybe he could be reasoned with.
"There's no need to do anything we'll regret," Sam appealed to him as he glanced over his shoulder, "I mean, whatever it is you want...it's not worth throwing your life away. Surely you've got family and friends who wouldn't want you to go down this road."
"Shut up and open the door already!" The gun started to slip and Sam went stock-still. Oh god, this could be it! That's when he saw Lenny in the corner of his eye, taking advantage of the fumble to try and grab the other man. Alarms immediately went off in Sam's head, and everything seemed to slow down as the robber swung around to face Lenny.
"Lenny, no!" The gunman's finger was just starting to squeeze the trigger when Sam, running on pure instinct, managed to place a roundhouse kick squarely to his jaw. The gun went off with a deafening BANG! and struck the wall as the robber flopped to the ground. Amazingly, he was down in one count, out like a light.
"Lenny, the gun!" Sam ordered. He didn't want the gunman to wake up and start shooting, and the fallen weapon was closer to the younger man than it was to him. Frantically, Lenny bent down and did what he was told, backing away from the unconscious assailant.
Sorry for doubting you, Ziggy.
Relieved that they'd managed to thwart the attacker, Sam's concern now was to make sure he hadn't seriously injured the man. He stooped beside him and pulled off his mask, revealing a pudgy face with graying hair and a bulbous nose. As Sam was checking his pulse, the man awoke with a start and automatically threw out a punch, knocking a stunned quantum physicist onto his backside. Before Sam could stop him, he'd already dashed from the alley and out of sight.
"Oh my god! Mr. Tanaka, are you okay?" Lenny's voice cracked as he rushed to once again help Sam to his feet. This was becoming a habit.
"Eugh...Yeah, I'll live," said Sam as he rubbed his tender nose, "Hey Lenny?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Call me Akio, okay?"
After a lengthy talk with the police over that afternoon's hold-up, Sam arrived back home to be greeted by the smell of tomato sauce wafting through the house. It was a strange juxtaposition to his harrowing brush with death at the pharmacy, that was for sure. Taking in a deep, satisfying breath, he let the intoxicating scent permeate his senses. It wasn't until now that he'd realized just how hungry he was. Curious, he moved toward the kitchen to find Al working at the stove and wearing an apron. When his friend noticed him, he acknowledged him happily with a spoon.
"Sam! Good, you're home. Taste this; tell me what you think of this sauce."
Without waiting for a response, he handed the utensil toward a puzzled Sam. Not sure what to expect, he sampled what was on the spoon and made a noise when the flavor hit his tongue. "It's delicious," he said in awe. Instead of taking the compliment, Al took the spoon back and held it scoldingly toward him.
"It needs salt," he said pointedly as he went back to the stove, as if this had been a test. "Serves me right for asking a dilettanteabout Italian cooking..."
Knowing Al too well to be even the slightest bit surprised at this, Sam ignored him and ventured further into the kitchen. Along with the sauce, Al had out all the makings of a fantastic pasta dinner. He went about his work with the ease that only came from experience and passion, and Sam was happy to finally see his friend in such good spirits.
"You're making dinner for us?"
"Mm-hmm, traditional Abruzzi maccheroni alla chitarra, fixed with a secret Calavicci sauce," he gave a wink as he tasted his concoction again. "Of course, 'traditionally' the pasta would be freshly made, but I only have so much to work with here. I tried to stick to a decent budget at the store for Kiyoko's sake."
"You can cook?" Sam was genuinely impressed.
"Are you serious, Sam? You're looking at the winner of St. Jerome's Junior Cook-off, two years running! Can I cook." Al gave him the side-eye before he was sent on another train of thought. "You know, once, when I ran away from the orphanage, I tagged along with this famous chef. And he had this sous chef with an amazing set of-"
"Spare me the details, Al," Sam held up a hand and cut him off, sensing a long story coming.
"-cast iron skillets," Al finished with a smart-aleck grin, "Oh, uh, it's just about ready. Grab some silverware, will you?"
As Sam began to dig out knives and forks, he was curious. "What's got you in such a good mood anyway? I would've thought you'd be miserable after the baby shower."
"It was absolute torture, Sam. But, I think I might have a clue as to what happened with the Tanakas."
"Really? That's great news!" Sam's face lit up, and Al looked proud of himself as he set the plates out on the small table in the kitchen. As he started to grab the pasta, Sam jumped in to help.
"Watch it, Sam, it's hot."
"So what is it? What'd you find out?"
Al looked up dumbly as he sucked some red stuff off of his finger. "Huh?"
"The clue?" Sam rolled his hand as a gesture to keep going.
"Oh, the clue! Well, Sam, you're not gonna like this, but...I don't think you're the father of Kiyoko's baby."
Sam's face tightened in exasperation. "Of course I'm not, Al."
"No no, not you, you! Akio, you!" Al clarified (in a way), "I think...I think Kiyoko was doing the horizontal mambo with some other guy."
"What do you mean?" This wasn't what Sam was expecting to hear. By all accounts, the Tanakas seemed to have the perfect life (upcoming murder aside). Why would Kiyoko cheat?
"Well," Al began to divulge, "when I was at the baby shower today, Emi told me Akio wasn't the father of my-Kiyoko's baby." He pinched the bridge of his nose at yet another leapee/leaper switch-up, then went on. "More or less. She said it broke Akio's heart."
"That doesn't seem like her." A befuddled Sam put a forkful of pasta in his mouth.
"Sam, we don't really know either of these people. How's the pasta?"
"What? Oh, it's good," answered Sam absentmindedly, to Al's slight annoyance, "So what's your point? You think this had something to do with the murders?"
"I do indeed. Picture this," Al made an expansive gesture, as if to paint the story before him, "Akio finds out his wife is doing the bingo bango bongo with someone else. This cheeses him off, and he takes Kiyoko to the Hudson and offs her. Once he's done with his wife, he shoots himself and falls into the river."
"What? No!" Sam responded strongly, "No, I refuse to believe Akio would do that. Besides, why would he wait nine months to do it?"
A shrug. "Maybe he just recently found out. Maybe he stewed on it. Who knows?"
"No," Sam shook his head, unwavering, "That doesn't make any sense! If Akio is the killer, why would I leap into him? That wouldn't solve anything, and I'm not going to kill anyone."
"That's a good point..." Al said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. Then he snapped his fingers. "What about Kiyoko then? Akio goes into a, uh, a jealous rage, Kiyoko kills him in self-defense. Distraught over accidentally killing her husband, she throws him into the river and kills herself."
"Same thing, Al. You'reKiyoko, and you wouldn't leap in if she were the killer."
"Not if it was self-defense," he argued, "Because if I'm here, it doesn't happen. Therefore, the leap is solved by default!"
"But what's to stop Akio from going into a jealous rage again when he returns?" Sam raised his eyebrows inquisitively.
"I don't know, Sam, but I think I'm on the right track here!"
Sam noticed that Al was slightly miffed, twirling his fork in his pasta, and he sensed something else was going on. "Why are you so insistent on this?"
"I, uh...I have a feeling, that's all." Al was getting evasive again.
"What do you mean, a feeling?"
"Y'know, a, uh..." Al trailed off when he saw Sam's look. Then, rapidly, "Oh hell. Don't make a big deal about it, but I started feeling the baby kick today. And I don't know what it is, but I just get this vibe from Kiyoko about the baby...like she's scared. So I think whatever happened, the kid has something to do with it."
Sam took a moment to absorb the information and turn things over in his head. Understandingly, he said, "Okay, Al. If you think you're right, we'll keep the option open. But, and please don't take this the wrong way...is it possible you're just feeling normal anxiety about the pregnancy?"
Initially, Al had the urge to feel offended again, but he had to admit to himself that he honestly wasn't sure. Between Kiyoko's feelings, his own feelings, and pregnancy hormones, he couldn't be entirely certain what was going on in his head was genuine. It made him feel like he was crazy.
"I dunno...maybe," he confessed.
"Who's the father?"
"What?"
"If Kiyoko slept with someone else," said Sam, "who's the biological father?"
Al pressed a couple of fingers to his mouth distractedly. "I don't know."
"Al!"
"What? Emi didn't say! What am I supposed to do, ask if she knows who the father of mybaby is? Kiyoko should already know that. Unless, of course, she did the dipsy doodle with too many men to know for sure..."
"Al!" Sam shouted even louder.
"It could happen, Sam! Not everyone can be a perfect choir boy like you, you know." With a smug grin, Al took a big bite of pasta. This earned him a look of indignation, but Sam chose to not indulge him any further.
"Maybe the biological father has something to do with the Tanaka's disappearance," he mused, "Maybe he loved Kiyoko, but she didn't return the same feelings...and he killed them."
"Yeah...Or!" Al was excited at the prospect of unraveling this like a detective, and he leaned in conspiratorially, "Kiyoko was in on it. She and the new boyfriend get rid of Akio, and they disappear under a new identity."
"Could be." With nothing to argue against that possibility, Sam left it at that, but he didn't agree. Something didn't seem to fit. Al was right; they didn't really know Akio or Kiyoko, but something in Sam's gut told him they weren't capable of such malice. Perhaps it was his "leaper's intuition" that Al always seemed so vexed by, until it inevitably ended up saving a life. Maybe it was in part because Sam almost always felt some sort of connection or loyalty to the person he'd leaped into, a sentiment which apparently Al didn't share.
Before Sam could really gather his thoughts, he noticed Al looking ashen and staring at the plate in front of him. "Al, are you okay?"
"Uh..." Al held his stomach with one hand, placing his other to his mouth. "I don't think dinner is sitting so well with me..." Ash turned to green and he abruptly got to his feet, bolting out of the kitchen.
Sam waited until the sounds of vomiting stopped before knocking softly on the bathroom door. A groan. That response would have to do. Creaking the door open slightly, he peeked his head inside. His friend was seated on the floor next to the toilet, looking about as miserable as he'd sounded.
"Hey, how're you feeling?"
"How do you think I'm feeling?" Al asked hotly. He stared at his hands. Then suddenly, he burst out, "This sucks, Sam! It really sucks!" Blinking furiously, he stopped for a moment and ran his fingers through his hair. "I have no control over my body! I mean, one minute I'm starving, the next I'm nauseous. I'm bloated, I feel like I weigh 300 pounds, my feet hurt, my back hurts, my insides are being used as a punching bag, my emotions are on a constant rollercoaster, and I'm gassy! Like, all the time! Just a constant backdoor breeze!" He smacked his hand over his eyes. "And I have to pee again!"
"Oh, uh-" Sam hurriedly started to close the door.
"No, Sam, don't bother," sighed Al dejectedly, "I don't want to get up anyway."
The toilet was right there, but Sam didn't point that out. Al was a wreck, and Sam felt a pang of sympathy shoot through him. He knew exactly how he felt, and it hadn't been a picnic for him either. He remembered the constant discomfort, pain, and mood swings that came with being pregnant, something he'd never care to revisit, but he'd take on some of it for Al if he could. As it was, he could only offer him his support. So he sat down on the floor across from his friend, legs crossed, and gave a silent expression of solidarity. Al let his hands hang limp in his lap.
"What's happening to me, Sam?" he asked quietly, "I mean, morning sickness occurs during the first trimester, so why am I getting it from Kiyoko?"
"Well, after I leaped into Billy Jean, I came up with a theory..." recalled Sam. Al waited expectantly as the scientist pulled at his chin and tried to form a simplistic summation. "Kiyoko is nine months pregnant, right?"
"Uh-huh."
"But you aren't."
A little bit of Al's fire returned as he drawled, "Give him another PhD, ladies and gentlemen."
"No no, listen," Sam continued, unperturbed, "I bonded with Billy Jean in case she delivered before I completed the leap, so the baby wouldn't be born in the future. The same thing's happening to you. And because Kiyoko is at full term, and you...aren't, your body has to work to catch up."
"Meaning...?" Al was feeling too under the weather for this.
"Meaning, you're going through the whole process."
There was a pause as the information sunk in, and Al took a deep breath. Finally, carefully, evenly, he asked, "Sam, are you trying to tell me I'm experiencing the entire nine month pregnancy in a few days?"
"Essentially, yes."
"Essentially, I'm going to kick your ass! C'mere!" With all of the grace of an over-encumbered donkey, Al reached pathetically for a surprised Sam, who easily dodged out of the way.
"What're you talking about? What'd Ido?" Sam questioned, perplexed, as he got to his feet. Grabbing the sink awkwardly, Al began the long ordeal of getting up. For Sam's part, he was torn between helping his friend up or getting the hell out of the way.
"You gave me the leaping curse, that's what!" he yelled, "You, you with your stupid Shirley Temple attitude, you had to go screwing around with time, and now you've spread your leaping voodoo to me! I was fine being an Observer, but now, now I get to be the hilarious preggo and you're just yukking it up over there! Well ha ha, Sam, HA HA! We'll see who has the last laugh when you're face-planting into the floor, you nozzle!" By now he was on his feet, huffing and puffing.
Disconcerted over Al's sudden meltdown and worried about how hard he was breathing, Sam tried to diffuse the situation. "Al, calm down. You want to go into labor?"
"Of course I don't! Don't tell me what to do!"
"Look, Al, I'm sorry. If it were up to me, you wouldn't be here. I don't...I don't want you to die." Sam was suddenly very somber. As ridiculous as Al's rant was, at least part of it did ring true to him. He felt terrible for getting his friend involved.
Recognizing Sam's seriousness and starting to feel ashamed at his explosion, Al's anger melted away. After regaining control of his breath, he said softly, "I don't want you to die either, Sam." His eyes flickered up with remorse. "I'm...I'm sorry I called you a nozzle."
The apology wasn't necessary, but Sam accepted it anyway for Al's sake. "It's okay," he said with a small smile.
Someone cleared their throat, and it wasn't Sam or Al. A semi-translucent Gooshie was just outside the door, leaning to the side uncertainly. "Should I come back later?"
"Gooshie?" Al asked the air.
"No, please stay," Sam answered the programmer's question, exiting the bathroom with Al tailing him, "Did Ziggy come up with anything?"
"As a matter of fact, she did," said Gooshie as he fidgeted with the handlink, attempting to be professional but barely masking his nerves. Whether it was from anxiety or a general lack of social skills, neither Sam nor Al knew.
"Did she get that list of suspects?" Al asked, suddenly the professional Gooshie wished he was. If he hadn't just been privy to Al's breakdown in the bathroom, that is.
"Welllll..."
"Gooshie!" Sam and Al shouted together.
"You both have to understand!" pleaded the programmer, "Ziggy is being very temperamental about this! Admiral Calavicci being here has got her really upset, and we're barely able to coax her into letting me use the Imaging Chamber. Basically...she's being a real bitch." The handlink shrieked and Gooshie knew he'd made a mistake. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But you're being very unreasonable!"
"So Ziggy has her gears in a twist, untwist 'em, Gooshie!" barked Al, "For god's sake, you're the programmer!"
"It's not that easy, Admiral!" Scr-eeeee! "Ziggy, I said I was sorry!"
"You tell Ziggy if she doesn't cooperate, I'll be there in 14 years to kick her processors to the curb!"
Sam was beginning to feel like a mother separating her quarreling kids again. That is, if her children were a temperamental Italian admiral, a nerve-wracked programmer with halitosis, and an egotistical parallel hybrid computer. "Everyone! Can we focus, please?" he begged, "Gooshie, you said you had something."
The handlink chirped and Gooshie nodded affirmatively. "Well, Dr. Beckett, you've changed history. Now, Akio and Kiyoko are both found in the Hudson...tied together and shot in the heads."
"What?" Sam frowned. "Why did that change?"
"Yeah, all we did was go to work and have a baby shower," remarked a puzzled Al.
"Oh!" Sam gasped. He'd been so preoccupied with everything that had happened since he'd gotten home, he'd forgotten to mention his near-death experience in the alley.
"Oh? What 'oh'? What happened?" demanded Al.
"Actually, I didn't just go to work," Sam admitted, "Near the end of my shift...a robber showed up with a gun."
"Sam! Why didn't you tell me?!" Al couldn't decide if he was upset or angry. It seemed like he'd been feeling that way a lot lately.
"I'm sorry, Al. I meant to say something, but I got a little distracted." Distracted by Al. Although there was no blame in Sam's words, Al scratched his temple and quieted down, feeling very selfish. "I managed to get the gun away from him and he took off."
Already up to speed thanks to the police report, Gooshie continued, "That's right, but in the original history, the robber dropped the gun and got scared away."
"And no one was hurt?" Sam's jaw dropped. Gooshie's head bobbed affirmatively, and Sam did a furious spin. "I can't believe it! You mean to tell me I risked my life today for nothing?"
"I wouldn't say that, Dr. Beckett," argued Gooshie, "Because by confronting the gunman, you changed history, so Ziggy gives it a 67% probability that the robber is involved in the Tanaka's deaths."
"Hey, that's right, Sam!" Al chimed in, "He has to be the killer! But wait, why is the percentage so low?" He looked toward the sound of Gooshie's voice. It was strange having a conversation with someone he couldn't see, but then again, it was strange to have a conversation with a hologram any way you sliced it.
"Ziggy says that while it's likely the shooter is involved, the change is so small that she isn't sure."
"She's right, Al," Sam jumped in, "Sometimes I change things just by leaping in. And between the two of us, everything can't have gone exactly like it did in the original history."
Al paused for thought. "Think about this as a possibility. In each history, the robber ends up hightailing it out of there with nothing. Well, robbers are stupid. So, he comes back to the scene of the crime the next night to finish what he started. Things go wrong, and Akio ends up with a bullet in his brain." A finger gun to the temple finished off Al's hypothetical scenario.
"But why did Kiyoko get killed too?"
"Maybe she was at the pharmacy with him," Al guessed.
Chewing his bottom lip as he thought it over, Sam returned his attention to Gooshie. "Gooshie, what does Ziggy say the probability is that Akio and Kiyoko were killed in a robbery?"
Gooshie plonked on the vibrant block in his hand as his image flickered and skipped. Surprisingly, he rolled his eyes at the response; even his patience was wearing thin. "Ziggy says she doesn't know. She says there are too many unknown variables. There are no records of anything being stolen, however."
"But if it went wrong, he could've taken off without anything."
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Al jumped in, "Okay, Gooshie, try this: ask Ziggy what the odds are of Sam and I surviving if he just closes the pharmacy for the day?"
"Al!" Sam said sternly, "There are people who are depending on Akio for their medication. Someone could get hurt!"
"Ziggy says the odds of the Tanaka's survival go up," Gooshie read from the handlink, "but a customer, Mrs..." He held the handlink closer. "...Aggie Cranshaw, she doesn't get her husband's heart medication in time...and he passes away." Sam had to strain his eyes to see Gooshie. His image was beginning to fade in and out with more frequency. "Er...I'm afraid we're draining too much power again."
"Don't you dare leave, Gooshie!" ordered Al, "You tell Ziggy to keep you here, or I'll take her apart with a hammer when I get back!"
"I'm sorry, Admiral, I...atte...ng...backup..." Gooshie's image stuttered, faded, and completely disappeared. Al listened intently.
"Gooshie?" he demanded more than asked.
"He's gone, Al. We're on our own." Furious, Al swore in more than one language, but Sam was elsewhere, his chest aching at the thought of causing someone's death. It wasn't a possibility he would ever chance. "There's no way I'm closing the pharmacy, not if someone gets killed. Al, we can't-"
"Okay, okay, okay," Al cut him off, trying to take control again, "We don't close up shop. How about this, Sam: call the police. Tell them you've got reason to suspect the pharmacy will get held up again, and ask them if a squad car can stay in the neighborhood. The thief sees the squad car, and his plan is foiled. Bada bing, bada boom!" He dusted his hands together with self-assurance. "See? We don't need garbage-breath and the queen motherboard after all."
It just might work, Sam had to admit. Al would say of course it would work, it was his plan. But, still, something niggled at Sam's brain. "Okay. But what if we're wrong? What if this has nothing to do with the robbery?"
"Uh..." Al wiped his nose. "Well, we know your coworker, whassisname-"
"Lenny."
"Right, Lenny, he was the last one to see you alive. So, you stick with him. Killers generally don't attack if they know there'll be witnesses."
"But what about you, Al?"
"I'll stick with you too."
"No, not if we're right about the robbery!" Sam shouted, "I don't want to risk you getting shot if you stay there."
At this, Al laughed, although it was more of a 'chuh!' noise. "If you think I'm leaving you alone to get killed, buddy boy, then you've got another think comin'."
"Al, it's not just your life you're responsible for." Sam's mouth was a hard line. He was right, although Al hated to concede to that. If Al died, Kiyoko died, and if Kiyoko died, so did the baby.
If survival were an Olympic sport, Al would have a gold medal. Several, in fact. He'd lived through horrors most people could only find in their nightmares, if they were very unlucky. But when he signed up for his tours of Vietnam, he and all of the men knew the risks involved. In war time, you took it for granted that you might not see any of your buddies ever again. And yet Al had gone time and time again into near-certain death for them, because he knew they would do the same.
But this was not war, and Kiyoko and her unborn child had not signed on for an early death sentence. Al had to be careful not for his own sake, but for theirs. And even since the beginning of this leap, he'd made up his mind he wasn't going to be responsible for losing someone again. So he relented. "Okay, Sam. I won't go to the pharmacy."
"Go somewhere with a friend, someplace crowded."
"I can do that."
"Good." This plan was easier for Sam to take, although he was far from confident. With the Project's line cut for now, they didn't have any other choice.
"It's a deal. We start tomorrow at 0800."
Most of this leap felt like it had been spent waiting around to react to something, so Sam was grateful to finally have a plan set in motion. However, that didn't make him any more at ease when thinking about tomorrow night. As he lay on the couch attempting to fall asleep, he hoped fleetingly that Gooshie would show up to confirm if their plan would succeed or not. Although with Ziggy's lack of information this leap and the Project's unstable connection, Gooshie might not be any help at all.
He wondered if he was right about why Al was here, if God, Time, Fate, or Whatever had sent his friend back to help him succeed. And if so, did that mean Al would leap back to the Project once time was corrected? Selfishly, Sam wished he would leap with him, and he would have his closest friend by his side from now on. Time travel was a lonely business, and Sam was tired of feeling like he only had himself to rely on.
His cheeks flushed with shame at the thought. He didn't only have himself to rely on. Al had been there throughout every leap, sacrificing his own life in the process to be at Sam's every beck and call. He had been the one stable thing in Sam's chaotic, time-scrambled life, and he deserved to go back home. Sam wanted that for him, more than anything.
Flush.
He smirked as he heard the padding of feet, peering over the couch at Al quietly sneaking by. He couldn't help himself. "Did you fall in?" he teased.
"Stick to being the straight man, Sammy, and leave the jokes to me," Al said sleepily, circling the couch. "Can't sleep either, huh?" Sam didn't answer, instead sitting up and motioning toward the recliner for Al to sit down. He did just that. "I'm not even tired," he said through a yawn, "Thinkin' about tomorrow?"
"Yeah, among other things," Sam replied, hugging his knees as his mind drifted. He looked toward Al, who pulled a small blanket over himself. "Do you have children, Al? Back at the Project, I mean."
"Me? Oh no no no no," he said quietly and shook his head. Then he screwed up his face in second thought. "At least...I don't think I do. If I do have children, they're going to be very cross with me when I get back."
"Did you ever want them?" Sam inquired curiously.
"You kidding? I don't know what to do with kids, Sam."
"Sure you do. I've seen you with children on leaps before. You're great with kids!"
"It's different when it's someone else's kid," Al deflected, picking at a tiny fleck of something on his blanket, "When it's your own kid, I mean...that's a big honkin' deal." It was a scary thought, and Al wasn't sure if he was ready for that kind of responsibility. And he sure wasn't getting any younger, so...maybe it just wasn't in the cards for him. Besides, he could hardly afford alimony, much less paying for a child.
"Beth wanted kids," he continued, "but you travel a lot in the Navy, and I just didn't think that would be fair. Because..." Al rubbed at his ear. "Well, when my father was alive, we always traveled, and it was hard on us, and I remember wishing me and Trudy could've stayed in one place. Someplace that was ours. And when we got that small house, that's what it was. Something that was ours. That was the happiest I ever remembered being as a child, before..." Before his father died, he went back to that orphanage, and Trudy went to the institution she died in. He wasn't sure if Sam remembered any of this, but he wasn't going to remind him. "A child deserves a good home with a mother and a father who love them...and that's, uh, and that's what I'd want to give my own kids. If I had any, that is." All of this personal talk was making him feel uncomfortable, and he pretended to cough.
Al might've told Sam stories that made his hair curl, and he was lecherous, and smoked awful cigars, and told crass jokes, but when it came to children, he was a huge softy. Sam remembered how attached he'd become to Teresa Bruckner, and how sorry he was for Sam to finish that leap. He knew how fatherly Al could be. "I think you'd be a great dad, Al."
"That's nice of you to say, Sam." Al gave a small, self-deprecating grin.
After that, Sam looked toward the wall, lost in thought, almost afraid to ask his next question. "Do Ihave kids, Al?"
"I don't know."
"Al!"
"Scout's honor, Sam!" Al insisted, "Honest to goodness, I really don't remember. And even if I did..." He trailed off sadly.
"You can't tell me what I don't remember on my own," Sam finished, irritated now, "Yeah, yeah, I know the drill." He slumped into the couch. He wasn't sure what answer he was hoping for. Truthfully, any clear response would've terrified him. And he knew Al was just following the rules he himself had set up, so his annoyance didn't last long, instead replaced by a wistful sadness. "I guess it's better I don't remember. Even if I did have a son or a daughter, I wouldn't know them." He knitted his eyebrows, trying to fix a blank face in his mind, muddled and far away. "I wouldn't remember when they were born, their first word, their first steps...their smile." He blinked away the moisture forming in his eyes and inhaled deeply. "I've been gone for so long...I wouldn't get to see them growing up." It hadn't struck him until now just how much he wanted a family, and he found himself missing them, real or imagined. A profound sense of loss hung heavy in his heart.
"We'll get you back Sam," Al's voice cracked, "I promise. We'll get you back." To Sam's surprise, there were tears in his friend's eyes too, although he tried to look away from Sam in order to hide them. Al wasn't one to cry easily or willingly.
"Al, are you...crying over me?"
Sam was as bemused as he was touched. His question was answered with a small couch cushion flying in his direction.
"Lay offa me, I'm magnafoozled," Al sniffled as he wiped his eyes. Damn pregnancy hormones! "You know, I think I am tired. I'll see you tomorrow, Sam." Without waiting for a response, he got up and plodded toward the stairs.
"Hey Al."
"Yeah?"
"Thanks." He smiled one of his humble Beckett smiles, and Al nodded. Without another word, Al made his exit.
One night's rest and a call to the police later, Sam had once again left for a day of work at Akio's pharmacy. He and Al were both uneasy being separated when their fates were so zigzagged, but Sam felt good knowing that Mr. Cranshaw would receive his medication and live to see another day. After all, he couldn't have leaped in the save the Tanakas, only to kill someone else in their place. And so he went to work, even if that meant he was going straight into danger.
That was so very Sam, Al thought.
He was convinced now that the original history had played out with the Tanakas being murdered in a botched robbery, which meant Sam was out there alone while he was left playing housewife again. If it weren't for Kiyoko or her baby, Al would be there with him, no matter how much Sam protested. He owed him that much. God, what if Sam got killed?
He couldn't dare to think about that. The police had sent a patrol car to scope the area, so the likelihood of the pharmacy being hit again was pretty low. So begrudgingly, he had kept good on his word and called up Emi to spend the afternoon together. What did girls do for fun anyway? He knew what he'd like to do with a girl...not that he could act on that. How did that work, anyway, if his aura was a woman? It boggled the mind.
Much to his relief, Emi had suggested they go out for pizza, and Al at least knew how to do that. And honestly, he felt bad for not giving her enough credit. She didn't want to shop or do their hair or nails or any kind of horrifying thing Al was imagining; she was happy enough to just shoot the shit for a while and have a good time. And she was fun. She was excitedly telling him about the latest Yankees play off, and Al had to remind himself at least a couple of times not to jump in with information about games that hadn't occurred yet.
"Ooh, ten o'clock, ten o'clock!" Emi garbled through a mouthful of pizza. She and Al were seated in an outdoor patio outside a local pizza shop, watching the crowd of people who passed by on the street; Addicted to Love was playing through the speakers. Scanning the direction Emi was pointing, Al zeroed in on a couple in power suits. Emi was drooling over the man, a real Superman-type with a chin cleft. "Oh, what I wouldn't do to get between the sheets with a specimen like that..."
"Yeah..." Al was eyeing the leggy woman, a shapely blonde with curves in all the right places. There were many things he missed about home, and number one on that list was the monster mash. The blonde's hips swung as she walked by and he tilted his head longingly. "Bingo..."
"...bango bongo," Emi finished, head resting on her hands. Al's heart fluttered. He wanted to marry this woman. She took a bite of a breadstick and moaned in satisfaction. "Kiki, do you remember Dean from college?"
"How could I forget?" Al asked, knowing absolutely nothing about Dean.
"We put the itching powder in his boxers? He was scratching all day! Served him right for cheating on Nancy. I'll bet he and his goods got real acquainted...even after the itching powder wore off." Emi leaned in with a devilish look and Al joined in her laughter. If he'd known her in a different time and place, he felt like he could be friends with her, and for a brief moment, he actually forgot his worries about this leap.
Then someone caught his eye and he went stiff.
A man was standing nearby, watching them. He was tall and thin, with gaunt cheeks and graying hair falling over his face and just beneath his ears. Al knew him, he knew every detail, knew the small, evil smile placed on his lips.
He knew his hands. Long, spindly fingers grabbing him tightly, wandering uninvited over his body. Al wanted to move, but the man had overpowered him, pinning him to the ground. He was so strong. Al's entire body was trembling, but he couldn't find his voice to cry out. Oh god, he was afraid. He was afraid of dying, and he'd never been more certain that he would. Please, someone, anyone, help me!
The man leaned in close, close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath, and whispered softly into his ear, "Just relax, darlin'...it'll be over before you know it." One of those awful, bony hands reached down to slowly lift up his victim's dress. His lips pulled back over yellow, stained teeth, a mouth ready to unhinge and swallow her whole. He thrust forward, a painful, awful invasion, and his victim inhaled sharply.
Clang!
Al's shaking hands had knocked over a container of parmesan, startling him back to the patio. He was having trouble breathing again; his chest felt tight and oppressive, another anxiety attack bleeding through from Kiyoko...Oh, Kiyoko. I'm so sorry.
Emi's smile immediately wiped off of her face. "Kiki? What's wrong? Are you going into labor?" She placed her hand over his tremulous one. Al shook his head, daring to look at the terrible man again...but he was gone. "Kiki?"
Al realized he'd been silent for too long, barely catching his breath. He stood up. "I-I'm okay," he managed to say, "I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me." With that, he headed into the pizza shop and left Emi by herself.
Once he'd shut himself in the stall, he closed his eyes and leaned against it, feeling utterly helpless and afraid.
Well, that had been it. No robbery, no bullet. But Sam hadn't leaped yet, which meant either they'd been wrong about the robbery, or there was something else left to do. Seeing as how he'd "saved" Lenny's life, his intern had been happy to give Akio a ride to and from work when his car had broken down. It hadn't been a very hard lie to sell, since the car barely worked on a good day. Everything at the pharmacy had gone off without a hitch, and Sam said goodbye to Lenny before anxiously entering the house.
He found Al in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and lost in thought.
"Al, where's Emi?" he asked with slight agitation, "You were supposed to stay with her until I got back!"
"She just left a little bit ago."
Now Sam was beside himself. "We agreed on this! How long were you alone here? What if something had happened?"
"It didn't."
"Al, we didn't leap! Which means we might still get killed!"
"I know, Sam," Al said softly.
"This leap is driving me crazy!" Sam was pacing the room now, too stuck in his own head to notice Al's unusually quiet demeanor. "I'm spending all of my time working, and nothing is getting done!"
"Sam."
"The Project can't keep a steady connection with us, Ziggy's of no help at all, and we're sitting around waiting to get shot!"
"Sam-"
"And you!" He paused mid-stride to give his friend a reproachful look. "You can't do the one thing I asked you to do tonight! Are you trying to get killed? Because-"
"Sam!" Al stood up; his voice boomed with the authority of the admiral he truly was, ordering Sam to be silent. Sam stopped dead in his tracks, his attention now fully on the commanding officer before him. Once Al had it, he spoke with a lower volume. "Kiyoko was raped. That's who the father of the baby is."
Shock overtook Sam, and he was speechless. Al hadn't wanted to deliver the news like that, but the cat was out of the bag now, so he went on. "You want to know why we haven't leaped yet...that's why."
Once the information was digested, Sam found his voice. "She was raped? How do you know?"
"I remembered it." Al's lips were tight and he didn't divulge any further than that. He didn't need to. Sam knew what he meant.
"God, Al..." Sam ran his hand through his hair. "A-and you think this has something to do with us leaping?"
"I'm positive. Don't ask me how I know, I just do."
Sam accepted this without hesitation, trusting in Al enough to know this was right. "So what do we do now?"
SMASH!
Their heads jerked toward the door. The sound had come from downstairs.
"What the hell was that?" asked Al.
Sam slowly turned his head back to him. "I think we're about to find out what happened to the Tanakas."